


Liberator

by nowsaguaro



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Alvareider, Date Night, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, heavy topics on top of fluff plot structure, how life should be, i look so unprofesh with all lowercase tags, set prolly a couple months after victor's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowsaguaro/pseuds/nowsaguaro
Summary: Schneider pulls Penelope out of a boring date





	Liberator

About a half hour into a desperately boring and overly familiar dinner date set up by her mother, Penelope slides her phone out and pulls up Schneider’s contact page, waiting for the moment her braggy snoozefest excuses himself to the bathroom.

 _[One - Two - Three steps away,]_ and she presses dial.

“Schneider!” Penelope whispers when he picks up.

He whispers back, “Penelope!”

“I need you to save me from probably the worst date I’ve ever been on.” Her whispers are turning into hissing.

“Where are you?” She can hear the suppressed laugh in his voice.

“Redondo beach… You don’t have to if it’s too far away. He’s Mami’s friend’s son so I can’t fake an emergency without extended follow-up.”

“No way! Oh my God, Pen! I’m just right down in Palos Verdes right now at a conservation benefit! I’ll leave ASAP.”

“Oh my God, Schneider, thank you so much. Alright he’s definitely gotta be done soon, I’ll text you the address. Hasta.” She ends the call and shoves her phone back into her oversized purse (next to a Takis bag and a turkey sandwich she packed just in case she left before the bread basket.) The bag does not at all go with the burgundy gown her mother instructed her to wear but at least she didn’t bring a hiking backpack full of date emergency supplies.

While trying to blindly text with one hand shoved in her purse, Penelope can’t for the life of her remember the address or cross streets for the over-the-top boat restaurant, but she imagines Schneider will know just the one if she described it. Rich people are so unaware of how tacky their novelty dining experiences look to the rest of the world.

And, indeed, Schneider knows the exact place by the description alone and even rolls his eyes, imagining the stranger trying to force romance by taking Penelope to a coastal seafood place at sunset. “He’s trying way too hard!” He chuckles out loud in his car during the 15 minute drive over (while trying to somehow fit 15 minutes into two minutes.)

 

\--

 

11 minutes later, Schneider walks out onto the boat’s converted deck in his navy tuxedo and spots Penelope. _[Showtime.]_ He swallows his humor and clears his throat.

“I TRUSTED YOU!” Schneider yells from two tables away, while quickly approaching their date.

Before Penelope even processes the screaming is directed at her, he’s arrived at their table and is staring down at the two of them, looking like an angry sommelier.

Penelope desperately tries to hide her eye roll. _[You asked for this, girl.]_

“I trusted you and here you are with _this_ man, breaking my heart!” He throws a little crack in his voice.

“Woah, woah, I didn’t know, man!” Ronny gets up from the table to stand between Schneider and Penelope. “We just knew each other when we were kids! If I had known…”

“Aww, when you were kids? That’s kinda sweet.” Schneider’s arms fall at his sides.

Ronny and Penelope both fix him with a confused stare, Penelope’s expression colored with a bit of anger.

“I mean– you think you’re _so_ special! With this boat! And your suit! And having friends when you were a kid!” Schneider is always criticized in his improv class for being over the top but he is having trouble reigning it in. “C’mon, Penny Loafers, let’s go!” She repeats ‘Penny Loafers’ in her head a few times. _[Yep, I hate that.]_

Always the gentleman, Schneider reflexively sticks out his elbow for her to thread her arm through. _[No point in actually being rude just for the dinner theatre.]_

Penelope mouths a “sorry” to Ronny and heads back through the restaurant with Schneider.

 

Out front, Schneider’s SUV is slanted against the boardwalk and is still running, with a valet listening to reggaeton on the radio.

“I gave him $5 and told him he could blame the crazy guy who went on a rampage in the restaurant.” He turns away from Penelope’s still embarrassed yet amused face to speak to the valet, “thanks for keepin’ it warm, man!”

\--

When the two finally start to head away from the restaurant, Schneider excitedly breaks the five second silence, “so, how was my performance? Next stop: Broadway?”

Penelope smiles out the window and turns back to him, “to be honest, your tone and message were all over the place.”

“Well, it was hard to get in the _‘she’s mine’_ mindset. I always found that a little misogynist.”

Penelope just smiles back before realizing, “he’s probably already called his mom. And she’s friends with Mami. _Ugh_.”

“So you’re expecting a call from Lydia in the next 20 minutes?”

“Yup. She - of course - was the one who set it up.”

“Was he even Cuban?”

“No! Which prolly just means Mami is running out of ideas. With the divorce rate, available men my age _are_ a renewable resource, though.” They both sit in silence before Penelope adds, “he’s a marine biologist.”

Schneider starts to laugh. “And he took you out for seafood?”

Penelope joins him, though half-laughing at the evening in general. “So, what are you all dressed up for, fancy guy?” She smooths down his starched lapel.

He proudly smiles without taking his eyes off the road. “A conservation benefit at Palos Verdes. Sea lions and SheepHead fish mostly.”

“Seems like you and Ronny should have swapped places tonight.” She smiles, without fully considering what she’s saying.

He plays along anyway. “Yeah, well I never would have taken you to a place like that.”

“So where does Schneider take his dates?” Penelope teases.

“I might’ve taken a date there if I didn’t know her well yet – not a _first_ date, though, he’s an idiot – but I _know_ you.”

“Where would you take me – _knowing_ me– on a first date?”

“Actually, I do know where you’d like. There’s this tiny place in Koreatown that does Korean BBQ burritos.”

“Fusion cuisine is such an LA gentrifier thing but that does sound really good right now.”

“Most fusion restaurant ideas definitely are some white chef from New York thinking he’s invented a country, but this place is actually owned and run by a guy from Tijuana and his wife from Seoul! They moved to the states around the same time a few decades ago. Very PB&J-type story. We should try it sometime. You can bike there from home.”

“I don’t really _‘bike’_ in LA traffic.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you bike, too! I was picturing putting you in a basket like E.T. with the little blanket over your head.”

She pretends to hit him.

“What? You’re small enough! It’s just a takeout joint and so this way you could keep the food warm on the way back to our place.”

“Huh, ‘our place’ makes us sound married,” Penelope teases.

“I was describing you as my _tiny alien friend_ , but okay, if you’re trying to nail this down…” he extends his ring finger and wiggles it in front of her face, sighing dramatically.

She swats it out of the way.

“Can you imagine being in this traffic for an hour but with our man Ron back there?” He laughs.

“ _Ugh_ , it was already a 35 minute drive down _before_ rush hour.” She looks out the window again and smiles, “I think it was on purpose. I was trapped. Maybe he knew there was no way my _lover_ could have discovered us on the 405 Southbound.” She snorts.

He laughs, too, thinking this fully stopped traffic would be an optimal time to finally get a look at her. “You look really beautiful tonight, Pen.”

She raises her head from where she’d been leaning it on the window to face him, and her eyes completely glisten in the orange sunset. On any other day, she would curse at the overly warm and blinding commuting time sunset, but right now she knows the favors it’s doing for her smile. “Thanks, Schneider.”

“I’ll bet that marine biologist was planning on doing some snorkeling tonight.”

“Woooow. Sometimes you pleasantly surprise me but really it’s that I haven’t waited long enough for you to finish talking.”

“How about this: instead of going straight home to face the wrath of Lydia – well, _you_ would, _I’d_ be fine – how about we go to a restaurant on the first floor of one of those airport hotels?”

Penelope stares out the window and can already see signs for LAX. _[It’d be another hour in stop-and-start traffic to get home to eat whatever leftovers are in the fridge.]_ “Yeah that sounds good to me.”

Schneider makes an effort to cross the three lanes over to the exit lane without cursing.

 

* * *

 

 

Finally seated at the table on the first floor of The Westin, Penelope sees Schneider fully head on for the first time tonight. “Um. What the hell are those?”

He frowns, at first unaware that she’s pointing at his striped Warby Parker glasses. “My glasses?”

“Your sassy old lady librarian glasses!”

“They’ve got _personality_!”

“They’ve _got_ a _chain_! I did _not_ see that earlier!”

“One more element I could customize to express myself.” He brings them down off his face and he quickly and pointedly swaps them out with his classic black frames – only getting his arm caught in the chain for an impressive 2 seconds.

“You brought two pairs?”

“Well you never know when you’ll be mocked mercilessly.” Schneider sticks up his nose and pouts his lips.

“Oh shut up. You know you’re cute.” She smiles and rolls her eyes toward the menu a second time when he puts on a cocky smile.

 

The waiter comes by a few moments later, “all dressed up? Are we celebrating tonight?”

Schneider takes advantage of Penelope’s mouthful of ice water and answers, “yes, it’s our wedding anniversary.” He grabs her hand, trying his best to embarrass her. (She quickly peels it out from under his.)

“Shall I bring some champagne for the table?”

“How ‘bout some nachos for the table instead?” Penelope smiles brightly and swats her menu closed.

“Certainly.” The waiter makes his way back into the kitchen.

As soon as he is a few tables away, Penelope warns, “don’t think you’re getting any sugar just because it’s our anniversary.”

They share a grin for a long moment when Penelope is interrupted by a phone call. By her look of dread at the name on the screen, he senses _Lydia_. She takes the phone outside.

 

\--

 

When Penelope comes back to sit, she catches his raised eyebrows, waiting for her to answer what he’s wondering. “Ronny gave a detailed description of my _lover_ to his mom.”

“And Lydia heard it and knew it was me? Did she mention how he described me?”

“She didn’t, but I’m sure the words ‘string bean’ were involved. Anyway, it took a lot of talking down to explain it was a joke.”

Schneider makes a yikes face.

“And I had gotten through to her! Until I told her we were at The Westin.” She puts on a drained face while she watches him choke on a laugh.

“No, no, I’m not laughing at that.” He waves his hand around, trying to think of something not funny.

“I _finally_ convinced her only because Elena knew about the sea turtle event thingy.”

“Sea lion.”

“Huh?”

“You said sea turtle, but it was sea lions.”

“Oh my God, Schneider! Not the point.” She throws a hand in the air while she switches off her phone screen after one last look.

“So where’d we land with Lydia?”

“Well, I want _you_ to talk to her first when we get home because she’ll assume anything I say is a lie.”

“Fair enough.” He nods, fixated a bit on how easily she said, _‘when we get home’_ – but the thought is interrupted by a hot plate of cheese.

 

“These are some bougie-ass nachos!” Penelope says, reacting to the addition of capers and side of Mexican queso blanco. The waiter and the food runner share a smile at this.

* * *

 

 

After the bill is paid, they head outside for the short walk to the car.

“No point in really doing anything else, I guess.” Schneider starts. “We have to hop back on the freeway to get to anything else fun.” He looks down at her, “Pen, you look freezing, why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

“I never bring jackets on dates, you wait ‘til he offers you his.” She says this like it’s obvious.

“So part of you was hoping tonight would go well?”

“I mean, I wasn’t hoping for it to go _bad_.”

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket, it’s too cold.” Schneider smiles, already taking it off. “The navy jacket will go… terribly with the burgundy.”

“Oh, wow, so even men’s fancy clothes are frickin’ uncomfortable!”

“Yeah, sorry to break it to you. I’d switch my shoes out for yours, too, but I couldn’t fit in those heels.”

She sticks out her leg. “No heels tonight, not after a full day at work! He wasn’t gonna get _that_ lucky.”

Schneider just smiles while they climb into the car.

“So, where to now?” He hits his hands against the steering wheel.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, want to walk around downtown? I hate how dark it gets so early at this time of year.”

“I’ll walk around downtown, definitely. Anywhere specific or…”

“Just around.” She closes her eyes and puts her head against the window. Then readjusts to put her big purse under her head as a cushion.

 

He looks at her at the few stoplights there are before the freeway. She always seems so different with her eyes closed. Penelope is so expressive that to see her sort of drained of energy is… strange. Or… new.

 

As soon as he speeds up the ramp to get onto the freeway, Penelope snaps up. “Schneider, how was your night before you rescued me? Did I pull you away from something fun? I didn’t even ask.”

“That’s alright. Uh, it was fine. I used to go to those things all the time, so it sort of was an emotionally prompting space for me.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and he chuckles to himself. “It was the sort of night that used to end with me waking up in a hotel room.”

“I see.” She understands as much as she can, having witnessed a spouse go through the same addiction. _[But Victor wasn’t alone with it.]_ Her heart swells, but sinks a little for Schneider.

He feels her chill over and he assures her, “nothing would have happened; it was all bad memories. I’m not that person anymore. I was just… sad for myself, does that make sense?”

“That really, really does.”

He looks over at her for longer than he should have as a driver. “Well, anyway. You pulled me out of it. Even though it was so I could catch you cheating!” He gasps dramatically.

Penelope laughs loudly, not expecting to. “I hope we can make it past this.”

“We’ll see. If you want to prove you’re faithful, I want you to make an honest man out of me once and for all!” He says this in his Savannah, Georgia voice, which she’d heard a few times before.

“Yeah okay, that’d be some end to this evening.” They both quiet down into their smiles and look at the approaching skyline.

 

 

“So, the question of the night… what was wrong with him?” Schneider asks. She likes that he doesn’t look over at her when he asks it, just smirks at the road.

“Well, I can tell you a _lot_ about UCLA. And what’s the best month to look at the freakin’ tide pools. Aaand about his mom’s weekly schedule.”

“Ah, and – lemme guess – he doesn’t even know your kids’ names.”

“Pretty much. He coulda been nervous or insecure or something but– I could just tell – there wasn’t ever gonna be that **_umph_** , there.” She scrunches up her face and then sighs.

“I feel that. With Avery – ah, _weird_ , haven’t said that name out loud in a while – we lined up like a mirror. And that wasn’t necessarily the problem, it was just that I was so excited to align with someone’s interests and humor that I didn’t wait to find out if we were compatible on any other level. I mean, you saw that fizzle. _You_ know.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Schneider.”

“I’m not. It was fun! Then it wasn’t. And I was sad about that. And then I wasn’t.” He shrugs without taking his hands off the wheel.

She looks at the backs of his hands. They are oddly youthful. “Oye, I just thought of a fun question!”

He bugs out his eyes trying to catch up to her energy change. “What is it?”

“What anniversary do you think the waiter thought we were on?”

“I can tell you that he was sorry to hear we were married, because homie had his eyes down your cleave the whole time he went through the specials.”

“ _Schneider_.” She scoffs.

“You’re pleased.” Again, he only flicks his eyes for a second but reads her expression.

“Well, because you’re not answering, I’ll tell you my guess. I think he thought it was year… _five_ of our marriage.”

“What makes you say that?”

Penelope answers factually like it’s a bubble on the LSAT’s, “deep in enough that we’re family, but early on enough that we still celebrate it, and enough of a checkpoint that we got all dressed up. What would you think if you looked at us? Lemme guess, year one on the 2nd wife?”

“No,” he flicks a look at her, “he didn’t believe us. That we were married. Didn’t you see him laugh every time I tried to embarrass you? He knew I was just flirting.”

She frowns. “Were you?”

“Was I flirting with you?” He actually has a confused expression.

“I thought you just like to test me. That was you _flirting_?”

“I _always_ flirt with you. That’s our thing. I flirt with you and you do your little,” he perfectly mimics an impatient look, “and we go about our lives.”

Penelope looks like she is doing math in her head.

“Oh come on, like you don’t call that flirting? We’re too hot for this earth, Pen. If people like you and me don’t let out a little sensual energy now and then, something could catch fire. And LA has enough fires.” He looks over at her annoyed stare. “There it is!” He swivels his body to point so quickly that he swerves on the road. “Sorry, oops. But there it is.” He sticks a finger in her dimple when she smiles, and she smiles brighter.

He retracts his hand and they sit in silence until they have to look for parking.

 

\--

 

Trying to break through another quiet stretch after their brief bickering match (about parking next to a white sidewalk stripe versus yellow versus yellow after 6pm versus red) Schneider poses, “do you think Lydia will ever stop trying to get you married? Well, marriage número dos?”

“Nope.” She smiles reluctantly down at her feet while they walk aimlessly. “I get her reasoning, though. My mom’s been more lonely in her life than I think I could stomach. She was Pedro Pan’d as a teenager and then isolated as an immigrant and now widowed. It’s not just ‘Latin Family Values’ with her. I think she’s really sad.” Penelope never lifts her head.

“I guess I never think of Lydia that way. It’s hard to picture her lonely.” He looks ahead, trying to remember the reasons he’d seen her cry.

“Don’t get me wrong, that lady is a human callus after the life she’s lived. But I think that’s what she means when she constantly goes on about how she wants _what’s best for me_ ,” Penelope loses her words for a second, then continues, “not like I need some guy to step on spiders–”

“Or to father a buncha chiquita-Lupita’s.” Schneider offers.

“Yeah. I think Mami just doesn’t want me to roll over in bed one morning when I’m 60 and wish there was someone there.”

Schneider runs through imagining Lydia lonely and widowed, then picturing _himself_ lonely in his 60’s, then through picturing Penelope lonely, the last one a punch to the gut.

He brings her under his long arm instinctively and reassures her, “if you want someone at that age, go out and get someone grandma! Old people bone all the time. That’s like _all_ they do.”

“That’s… oddly comforting.”

In their heads, they both do the math. _[Ugh, that isn’t even that far away.]_

 

\--

After walking around in circles for a short hour, the two of them find their way onto the grass in Pershing Square.

“You’re not worried about your dress?”

“You think I paid more than $15 for this? Like a chump?”

“Sorry, I forgot how powerful you are for a sec.” When he reclines back, he doesn’t mind that his pinky brushes hers. “Part of me is glad your date turned out to be a dud.”

“I’m not taking that personally because I know you are trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight. Getting to hang one on one with my best fran’.” He puts his arm around her to bring her in closer, but he throws himself off balance and topples them both down.

“Oof, hombre, I betta at least get a penalty kick for that tackle,” she says while sitting back up and putting out a hand to pull Schneider up, too.

He grabs her hand and, like a kid in a pool, pulls her back down. “Plus, you can do so much better than a guy who goes by ‘Ronny’ in his 40’s.”

“I really can’t argue with that.” She smiles her gorgeously bright smile but it’s only won by his peripheral vision. “Hey, Schneider.” He flops his head to the side to look at her. “We should hang out more.”

“Yeah, Pen. That’s the last thing I’d ever expect to hear from you, but I’m down.”

“I guess I mean not in a neighbor-who-also-hangs-out-with-my-mom kind of way, more just that you’re my best friend and I love you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

“You _never_ say that.” He smiles over at her and her difficulty with affectionate vulnerability – which comes so easy to him – at which she rolls to hides her face, wishing she was less hard-headed.

“Oop, you’re getting grass all in your curls, there.” He lazily plucks a single blade out, but there are dozens more. “Just try shaking them out.”

They both sit up and Penelope sticks her hands into her hair to shake the whole mass of it and Schneider laughs at how ineffective that is.

“Dang, just let me get it.” He stills her by putting his hands on her shoulders. Trying to extend the opportunity to touch her as much as possible, he picks a few imaginary pieces of earth from her hair as well.

Penelope catches his eyes _[AzulesAzulesAzulesAzules]_ and she smacks her thighs to pivot away from that oddly intimate moment. “What’s up next?”

“We go home I guess.” Schneider climbs to his feet and helps up Penelope. “You gonna hop in my basket, _alienita_?”

“Alex and Elena aren’t even home anymore, they both had plans. It’s just Mami waiting for me. Getting angrier every hour that I don’t come home.” Penelope drags her feet like a teenager getting called to dinner.

Schneider puts an arm around her and jostles her a little. “C’mon let’s go get yelled at by your mom!”

 

\--

 

When they get into the car, Penelope places a hand on Schneider while he gets situated.

“Schneider, before we go, I want to talk about something you said earlier – about you being a different person now.” Penelope shifts in the passenger seat to look fully at Schneider before he gets a chance to turn the car on.

He swallows some phlegm. His heart is racing. _[This talk is gonna hurt.]_

“There was this thing I learned in therapy,” Penelope rolls her eyes at herself, “that we can’t fall into this trap of stranger-ing ourselves and our struggles.” She dons an uncharacteristically sympathetic – though still firm – face and threads her fingers up into his collar, under his tie. “You still deal with the same disease, you know that. But this guy who got the brunt of that pain. But survived? That was _you_. You’re here because of that version of you that you try to distance yourself from. Don’t do him the injustice of grieving him.”

She laughs through some surprising tears, and notices Schneider’s tearing up, too. _[What’s new?]_ But the pair chuckle at the absurdity of being here, crying in this parked car, still dressed like they went to dine with a senator.

“Thanks, Pen. That, uh, means just about _everything_ that you said that.” Schneider lifts his glasses to thumb away some big tears and leans back against the driver side window to get full view of Penelope, who smiles uncomfortably under his stare, breaking eye contact.

 

Looking down at her hands, she shakes her head. Her hair falls from where it was tucked behind her ears and ripples with the movement. When she flips her head up, a part of Schneider is surprised that she is smiling. “Wow.” She starts, pulling her mouth tightly closed, with an incredulous look on her face. “Wow. You are a really, really good man, Schneider.”

Instead of smiling, he loses all expression entirely, focusing his energy on keeping his heart rate down. Then his eyes gloss over in processing mode when she furrows her brow in his direction.

Penelope takes in a sharp and shaky breath through her nose, still looking at him, brow furrowed. _[Why am I not –]_ She interrupts her own thought and crosses the full distance from her seat to the driver’s side and lands a hand on his chest, leaning down to lay a slow, exhaling kiss on Schneider’s lips. After a second, she pushes up from him to face his response.

 

Schneider’s bright smile is slightly open in shock, “Pen, my gut tells me I shouldn’t talk right now, but I’m confused.” He leans further back against the window to make room for her so she doesn’t bump her head. “Grate. Ful,” he waves his hands to punctuate this to clarify (half to her, half to the universe), “but wondering… uh…”

“I don’t know. This might sound dumb,” she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, “but all of a sudden, I thought it was really _weird_ that I _wasn’t_ . Kissing you. Like a switch got flipped in my brain,” she pauses, the cramped car not stopping her from miming emphatically, “and suddenly I’m furious with myself.” She laughs, “wow, yup, that _does_ sound super dumb.”

Schneider can’t hide his amused face. _[This beautiful woman just kissed_ **_me_ ** _and_ **_she’s_ ** _flustered.]_ “Hey come here,” he pulls Penelope down for an intentionally clumsy smooch on the temple, “I’m glad you’re such a big dumb idiot.”

“Jesus Christ, Schneider.” She moves back to sit properly in the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt, quickly squeezing his thigh as if to tell him to get going. He does.

“Okay, so, _now_ are you ready to go get yelled at by your mom?”

Penelope looks out the window dramatically, leaning on an elbow, “ugh. Yeah I _guess_ so.”

He can see her grin in the reflection.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to forget these story ideas so I keep saturating the market, sorry heh  
> I do not own any One Day At a Time characters  
> Fact, a lot of my aunts and uncles were separated in childhood when the Pedro Pan program dropped them in orphanages around the US smh  
> No puedo creer que GCK is still fighting for the show :O i love her. these think pieces KEEP rolling in about its cancellation so maybe we can hope netflix will loosen its little coin purse clasp  
> Also I cried (in a pretty way) while writing this & I'll leave the "when" up to the reader's imagination ;)  
> also I once had a romantic moment in pershing square lol #tbt


End file.
